


As Long As Your Hands Are On Me

by pinklypeachy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Background Les Amis de l'ABC, Consensual Sex, Dominant Enjolras, Enjolras/Grantaire-centric, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, Hate Sex, M/M, Oblivious Enjolras, Submissive Grantaire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24502783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklypeachy/pseuds/pinklypeachy
Summary: Grantaire was hopelessly in love with his friend. Maybe it was the way Enjolras smiled lopsidedly, or the way his hair shone in the sun. Maybe, it was the way he pounded into Grantaire with no remorse. Who knows, really.
Relationships: E/R, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	1. i.

Grantaire wasn’t quite sure how he managed to get himself into this mess. It wasn’t supposed to go this way, wasn’t supposed to go on this long. Every time he made the trek over to Enjolras’s apartment, Grantaire swore it would be the last time - but that was all forgotten the moment he was pushed back onto Enjolras’s bed.

It - whatever _it_ was - started out simple enough. Friends with benefits, no strings attached. The boundaries were set: no emotions, no making breakfast in the morning, and absolutely no interference with their personal lives. Grantaire hated those rules with a passion. Nevertheless, he agreed, because it was a small price to pay to keep those calloused hands and golden hair in his life.

In the beginning, it was an easy routine to fall into. Wild, and exciting, and fun, like a carnival ride. Now, Grantaire was yelling for the operator to let him off.

The first time they had kissed was after an argument. Grantaire liked to rile Enjolras up, purely for entertainment. This particular fight was different from the others, though. Enjolras flew into the Cafe Musain, the local coffee shop on the edge of campus, ranting about some stupid literary theory. It was funny to see his emotions get the better of him, so Grantaire relentlessly incited the man’s anger. He knew he went too far when Enjolras gave up and stormed away to his apartment.

Grantaire felt bad, a little bit, but immediately regretted his life choices when he was met with exasperated looks from his friends. “Go apologize,” Combeferre deadpanned, holding up a hand to stop the childish protests all but spilling out of Grantaire. “ _Now_.”

Reluctantly, he got up and followed Enjolras’s whirlwind trail back to his place, practicing a bullshit apology that he hoped would satiate the hurricane brewing in the blond.

After a deep sigh and quick prayer to whatever deity that could protect him from Enjolras’s wrath, Grantaire knocked on his door - half-hoping he wouldn’t be there. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Enjolras. Normally, it was fun to get caught up in the revolutionary’s wild ideas and passion. The depth of his determination and empathy was incredible, but so was his anger. Quick-tempered and sharp-tongued, Enjolras was a good man who could easily turn ruthless.

That is why, when the door yanked open to reveal Enjolras glaring pointedly at a spot above Grantaire’s head, Grantaire all but cursed himself for ever deciding to attend college. Finally lowering his gaze to Grantaire, Enjolras all but growled, “What,” more of a statement than a question.

Unable to return the scowl, Grantaire elected to stare at Enjolras’s collarbone, which he justified by it being at eye-level. “I came to apologi-!” He was cut off with a yelp as Enjolras simply dragged him into the room by his collar. Slamming the door shut behind him, Enjolras released his grip on Grantaire’s poor t-shirt and began to pace around in the tiny living area.

“You are so frustrating, do you know that?!” Enjolras barked, and Grantaire couldn’t help but shrink in on himself. “Why do you always have to fight with me? Is it like a game to you?”

Grantaire resisted the urge to say “ _yes, it is absolutely a game, why else would I do it?_ ” but the look on Enjolras’s face was almost feral.

Enjolras stopped pacing, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Well? What’s your deal? Do you make it a point to argue because you hate me? What is it?”

Somewhere in this conversation, Grantaire had gotten lost. “Wait, what? I don’t - I don’t hate you. Why would I hate you?” The tension that had built up in Grantaire’s body caused his hands to twitch, feeling like a soda that had Mentos dropped into it and then quickly bottled up.

“Don’t act all innocent now,” Enjolras said lowly, arms still crossed and gaze narrowed, “I see the way you glare at me when you’re drunk. It isn’t exactly _indiscreet_.”

Anger flowed back into Grantaire’s veins. “At least I’m not the one who acts holier-than-thou all the time!” He spit, “At least I don’t act like a toddler when he doesn’t get his way!”

Enjolras’s nose flared. “Stop.” He was moving steadily closer, but Grantaire was too pissed to notice or care.

“No, you know what? I’m glad I’m not like you. I’m glad I don’t have to constantly seek everyone’s approval and attention! I’m glad I-!”

“Stop.” This time, Grantaire was cut off by Enjolras pushing him back against the door, the suddenness of it knocking the wind out of his lungs. “Just shut up for once in your goddamned life.”

The difference in height between them had never really been that noteworthy, but now Grantaire felt like an antelope cornered by a cheetah. Enjolras’s palms were flat against the door on either side of Grantaire’s head, almost like a challenge. It had never really occurred to Grantaire, but in that moment he was struck by the incomprehensible yet obvious truth: Enjolras was _hot_.

Maybe his expression revealed too much, because Enjolras let out a low snarl and pushed himself away, turning away from Grantaire. The gold of Enjolras’s hair burned bright against the angry red of his face, the color splotchy across his arms as he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the ass, Enjolras?” Grantaire turned around to leave the apartment, having completed his task unsuccessfully.

In a moment, Enjolras pushed the door closed once more and blocked Grantaire’s exit. “I’ll give _you_ a pain in the ass,” Enjolras huffed. Grantaire reddened at the implication of his words, blushing further when he realized just how close they were. He could feel the breath fanning out from Enjolras on his face. With the man’s head tilted down towards Grantaire, Enjolras looked exactly like a Greek statue. His face was all angles and sharp lines. Even his mouth was harsh - a defined Cupid’s bow with teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Grantaire released a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, transfixed on Enjolras’s lips.

Ripping his gaze away, Grantaire made for the doorknob again, ducking his head to hide his ever-deepening fluster. “I’m so tired of you and your-”

“Stop.”

Ignoring Enjolras, Grantaire continued, “-God complex. Truly, isn’t it exhausting?”

“ _Stop_.”

Grantaire snarled, “Must be rough-”

Enjolras grabbed the man’s shoulders, pushing him away from the door. “Do you ever shut up?!”

“No, I-” The words were abandoned as Enjolras pressed his lips to Grantaire’s. It was quick, only a peck, but it left him speechless as Enjolras pulled away.

Enjolras snorted, unimpressed, “I figured as much. All bark.” He dropped his hands and moved to let Grantaire out of the apartment.

Pissed off and worked up, Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’s wrist and scowled, “You’re a prick. Who the hell do you think you are?” Enjolras didn’t say anything, only glanced down to where Grantaire was still holding onto him, absent-mindedly running his tongue along his top lip and for a split-second, Grantaire wanted to know what Enjolras’s mouth tasted like.

He didn’t have to wonder long. With his free hand, Enjolras reached out to grasp the back of Grantaire’s neck, pulling him closer as he quickly leaned down to kiss him again. Relinquishing his grip on Enjolras’s wrist, Grantaire hooked his fingers into the man’s belt holes and pulled him closer, sighing into the kiss. Enjolras tasted like the coffee he had earlier and the mint toothpaste he used.

Grantaire’s head was spinning. Pulling away to catch a breath, he steadied his hands on Enjolras’s hips, muttering, “Does this mean you accept my apology even though I haven’t technically apologized?”

Enjolras snorted once more, and quickly spun them around to push Grantaire’s back into the door. “It’s going to take more than that to forgive you,” He growled into Grantaire’s ear, then set to attacking Grantaire’s neck with his mouth, hands running along his torso.

Grantaire swallowed, hard, revelling in the feeling of his body pressed against Enjolras’s. “Wh-what exactly did you have in mind?” He cursed his stuttering voice, but with Enjolras determined to leave a mark on the base of his throat, coherent thinking was almost impossible.

Enjolras chuckled against Grantaire’s skin, the sensation rather dizzying. Grantaire tilted his head back against the door, panting as Enjolras moved his mouth up his neck. Warm hands and a warm mouth clouded Grantaire’s mind, his own hands knotting themselves into the back of Enjolras’s shirt as if he could somehow pull him closer.

Enjolras didn’t answer, only giving a low hum in response. Grantaire could feel the scrape of teeth against skin and the feather-light touch of Enjolras’s fingertips ghosting along his sides. A warmth in the pit of his stomach was building. If this continued on any longer, his knees were going to give out, unable to keep himself upright.

Grantaire gasped, “Enj,” lightly tugging at blond curls in warning. “Enjolras, I-“

Enjolras backed up to properly look at Grantaire, eyes slowly sweeping down his silhouette. The latter shivered under the evaluation, pressing back against the door for balance.

Grantaire has never seen something so beautiful in his life. His Apollo, his Achilles, with wine-red lips, messed-up hair, and dark eyes. The fact that _he_ , Grantaire, had been the one to do that filled him with a sense of satisfaction.

His body ached. He _needed_ to be touched, needed Enjolras’s hands on him. Somehow, he had survived over two decades without ever having that, but now there’s no way he would’ve made it.

Enjolras wasn’t moving, just staring, and Grantaire felt close to exploding with want. “Please,” He mumbled. “Please, please, _please_ …”

A defined eyebrow quirked up at Grantaire’s words. “Please what?” Enjolras smirked, leaning an arm against the door. “I’m not sure what you’re asking for.”

Grantaire glared up at him as the man feigned oblivion, obviously delighted by the effect he had on Grantaire. Recognizing that Enjolras was not going to give in, Grantaire let out a sigh. No time for embarrassment.

He looked up at Enjolras through his lashes, pouting. “Please kiss me.”

Enjolras’s face broke open in a grin as he leaned down to obey. Closing his eyes, Grantaire got lost in the feeling of their mouths slotted together. He gasped in surprise as he felt himself being lifted into the air and held against the door. Strong arms wrapped under Grantaire’s thighs, holding him in place while large hands came to rest on his ass. It was a matter of seconds before Enjolras noticed Grantaire’s growing desire and pulled away from the kiss. He snickered as Grantaire flushed red, redder when Enjolras rolled his hips in and kneaded the flesh under his fingers. Smirking, Enjolras set right back into sucking the skin of Grantaire’s neck, kissing and biting at the pulse points.

Grantaire let out a groan as Enjolras began grinding hard and fast into him. He felt like a teenager again, rutting feverishly, yet still fully-clothed. Every thrust caused his back to slam into the door, while his thighs were beginning to bruise due to the pressure of Enjolras’s arms. He hated to admit it, but the dull bite of pain nearly pushed him over the edge. The coil in his stomach was tightening and pulsing. The muscles in his abdomen tensed.

Enjolras pushed Grantaire’s legs further apart, continuing his brutal pace. The heat rising in Grantaire’s stomach demanded release. He whined, lightly tugging on Enjolras’s hair again. He couldn’t help the pathetic noises spilling from his lips.

Like the sadist he is, Enjolras didn’t let up, only cooed, “Use your words, baby.”

It took everything in Grantaire not to come then and there. “I’m close,” He breathed, “Enjolras, I’m gonna-”

It was at that moment Enjolras set him back down on the ground and stopped what he was doing. Head foggy from being denied release, Grantaire stumbled forward, trying to get Enjolras back against him.

But he just kept Grantaire at arms length, a small smile on his face. Enjolras tilted Grantaire’s head to the side, momentarily examining his handiwork. With a small hum of approval, Enjolras turned away, saying, “You know where the door is.”

It took Grantaire a moment to comprehend what had happened, the words not quite making sense. “Wait, what?”

“That’s code for “get out,” Grantaire.” Enjolras laughed, waving goodbye to the perplexed man standing at his doorway.

“But-”

Enjolras’s eyes lit up, “Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Apology accepted.”

Grantaire could do nothing but blink in confusion as he was led out of the apartment. The door slammed shut behind him.

Grumbling a “fuck you, Enjolras,” Grantaire speeded down the hallway, praying no one would see his hard-on before he had a chance to fix it.


	2. ii.

It was these somewhat unfortunate circumstances that led to Grantaire’s current predicament - wide-awake at 3 in the goddamn morning. Of course, the man was already up, a night owl by nature. However, he was planning on going to sleep. That is, until a familiar name appeared on his phone screen. He answered the call without a moment’s hesitation, cursing himself for being so needy.

Making up for his obvious and embarrassing eagerness, Grantaire schooled his voice into some semblance of neutral, “What do you want?”

Enjolras chuckled from his side of the phone. “Not even a “hello,” huh? Did no one teach you manners growing up?”

“Considering the fact that I am tired and want to go to bed, all previous teachings are out the window. Now, what is it?”

“I just have a quick question,” Grantaire could hear the smirk in Enjolras’ voice, “What are you wearing?” 

“Jesus,” Grantaire muttered, a hand going up to swipe down his face. Only Enjolras would do these things. “Flannel pajamas and an old shirt from a fast food chain I worked at. Happy?”

“Oh, come on! You’re no fun.” Enjolras pouted. “You were supposed to be the fun one.”

“You wound me,” Grantaire deadpanned, “Call a phone sex line and let me go back to bed.” There was a long pause as Enjolras remained silent. Thinking he had won out, Grantaire moved to end the call, until Enjolras’ gravelly voice came through the receiver.

“But I like the way you sound, R, when you let out those little breathy gasps.” Grantaire froze as Enjolras continued. “The way you moan against my mouth,” Enjolras teased. “It’s cute, how you always try to stay silent when I start fucking you, but become a whiny mess by the end.” Grantaire swallowed, the blood rushing in his ears almost too loud to hear Enjolras’ words. 

“We both know you love it, the way I take you apart so easily. So pliant under my palms. So willing to please. You’re such a slut, it would be almost sweet if it wasn’t just goddamn pathetic.” Enjolras chuckled lowly, and it went straight to Grantaire’s spine. “You’re enjoying this too, aren’t you? Being degraded and insulted like the filthy nympho you are.”

Grantaire remained speechless. After all, what do you say to that? Yes, Enjolras, you’re right. I love being your needy little fuck-toy. Humiliate me. Embarrass me until I cry. God. He was already straining in his pants at just the idea of being fucked by Enjolras. 

Figuring his silence was acceptance, Enjolras continued. “I like the way your muscles clench around me. I like the whine you give when you’re being edged, a mix of sobbing and moaning choked out of you. I especially like the way you look after I’m through with you.”

Grantaire’s breath came heavy on his side of the receiver, still not speaking. He dragged a feather-light finger along the outline in his pants, hating how he wished it was Enjolras. 

Enjolras, obviously becoming somewhat annoyed at Grantaire’s lack of response, groaned, “I know you’re not asleep, ‘Taire. I can hear you breathing.” 

“That wouldn’t mean I’m not asleep, just not dead.” Grantaire could barely keep his eyes open. His voice was gravelly, but at least he wasn’t slurring his words. 

A sharp exhale of breath, what Grantaire has come to recognize as Enjolras’s way of laughing, comes through the phone. A short silence lapsed, then came Enjolras’s drawling voice, “What are you thinking about?”

“The multiple alarms I am going to sleep through tomorrow morning if you don’t let me get to bed.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Grantaire was! But much more concerning than that was how much he wanted to be used by Enjolras. Pathetic, yes, but completely fair if he had anything to say about it. 

Enjolras hummed lightly. “Would you like to know what I’m thinking about?” Without giving Grantaire a chance to respond, he continued, “I’m thinking about your hair. About pulling on it, more specifically. The way your hands clench the bedsheets. Have I ever told you how much I love your knuckles? Especially when they’re inside you.” Grantaire could hear Enjolras’s breathing speed up, a tell-tale sign as to what he was doing at that moment.

Without even thinking, Grantaire gasped, “Facetime me,” and hung up the call. He practically ripped his pajama pants off, answering the phone as soon as it started ringing. Immediately, Grantaire was blessed with the sight of a completely naked Enjolras, his phone being held up above him with one hand, the other already working on his boner. 

Holy fucking shit, Grantaire thought to himself, I could die and be perfectly happy. 

“Looks like someone’s excited to see me,” drawled Enjolras.

“Hey, you were the one who called me,” Grantaire shot back, taking himself in hand. He was glad his face was already flushed, the scarlet hue traveling down his neck. “Horny, much?” His eyes closed, quickly losing himself in his imagination. 

“Oh, babe,” Enjolras cooed, at which Grantaire’s breath stopped, “For you, always.” It would be an understatement to say Grantaire choked. “Don’t play innocent now, brat. It’s obvious that deep down, you want to be pounded like a whore.” Grantaire bit his lip, quickening his pace. With Enjolras’s voice coming loudly from the speaker, he could almost believe the other man was there. He placed his phone on the side of the bed next to him, propping it up against his pillow. 

Grantaire opened his eyes to glare at Enjolras through the phone screen. “Your degrader kink fits you, asshole.”

Glaring back, Enjolras pulled the phone towards his face. “Your degradee kink fits you, cumslut.” Grantaire twitched, closing his eyes once more. He would be lying if he said that the name did nothing for him. “Does it not, cumslut?” Grantaire visibly swallowed, cheeks burning, so embarrassed, but so, so turned on. He placed his phone on the side of the bed next to him, propping it up against his pillow. 

“Hey, look at me,” Enjolras commanded, his voice suddenly turning serious. Grantaire, fucked as he was, complied without a moment’s hesitation. “I asked you a question.”

The gears in Grantaire’s brain started turning. Grinding harshly into his palm, he muttered, “Stating the obvious, I see.”

“Grantaire, don’t make me punish you.” The brunette smiled. Now this was what he wanted. His stomach dropped delightfully, excited and nervous at the same time.

“You aren’t here, you can’t do anything.” He shut his eyes, living for the animalistic growl Enjolras made. Slicked up with pre-cum, Grantaire’s hand slid fast and heavy across his member, the obscene sound permeating the room. He panted, warm breath fanning out across his sensitive skin. 

“Oh, can’t I? Just wait until I see you next.” 

Grantaire opened one eye in surprise, smiling lopsidedly, “Is that a threat?” He didn’t miss the way Enjolras’s eyes narrowed; it would have gone unnoticed had Grantaire not known to look for it. 

“Yes, and it’s not an empty one.”

“Good, I would hope so.” The very idea of punishment excited Grantaire, which shows quite clearly his sense of self-preservation. 

A low whine sneaked out from Enjolras’s lips as he muttered, “It’s surprising how much of a whore you are.” From this angle, Grantaire could see Enjolras’s tan hand pulling desperately along his member, the way his stomach tightened, flexing in anticipation. 

“You like it, though.” Grantaire noticed how Enjolras consciously said nothing in response. 

The coil inside his gut tightened, climax within reach. “I’m close,” He cried out, craving sweet release, “Enj-“

“Cum for me, baby.” Enjolras sounded just as wrecked as Grantaire, the words airy and whining. 

That was the final straw, and Grantaire came with a start, unable to hold back a throaty moan as red-hot light flooded his eyesight. Stroking himself through it, the sticky white substance covered his hand and stomach. Moments later, Grantaire heard the familiar sound of Enjolras’s orgasm, the way his breathing hitched, the slightest keeling sound escaping his lips. 

After a few moments of catching his breath, Grantaire opened his eyes to look at Enjolras. He took a moment to openly admire that long expanse of smooth skin and taut muscles, since Enjolras’s lids were still closed. It required all of Grantaire’s willpower to not prostrate himself right there and declare his loyalty to Enjolras. 

Grantaire’s fantasy was abruptly cut off by the blonde’s raspy, sex-soaked voice. “Okay, I’m tired. Night, R.” 

“Wait-“ Grantaire couldn’t even finish the word before Enjolras hung up the phone. “Goddamnit.” 

He looked around the room, at the mess he made, at his alarm clock, and sighed. “I gotta stop doing this to myself. No more answering booty calls.” It was as if Grantaire thought saying it aloud would somehow set it in stone. It was a start, however ludicrous and insanely naive, a start. 

Of course, he managed to break his own rule within 72 hours. Truly, who could blame him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: no fear
> 
> my gf reads my horny enjoltaire smut fic
> 
> me: one fear
> 
> ______  
> also sorry i’m so slow at updates ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡


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